


Night Lights

by iLurked



Series: Here There Be Monsters [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, non necessarily canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 04:58:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iLurked/pseuds/iLurked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long, tiring mission, it was time for him to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Lights

**Author's Note:**

> For #wssummer week 8  
> Prompt: Late Night

She was, bar none, the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld.

Grant had traveled the world twice over, had seen greatly terrible and terribly great things, but nothing, nothing!, held a candle to the vision before him.

He watched, entranced, as she slept. He counted each breath she took, as if his very life depended on the number of the rise and fall of her chest.

Against his better judgment, he reached out, unable to resist the lure of her silken skin.

She stirred, her hazel eyes revealed by each sleepy blink. Her rosebud mouth opened in a yawn.

Grant smiled widely, greatly entertained.

Her mouth opened wider…

… and let out an unholy scream.

Uneven footsteps pounded from outside, heralding the arrival of a beautiful woman into the room. When she saw Grant inside, her hands flew to her hips.

“Grant,” Jemma Simmons cried out in exasperation. “Did you wake the baby again?”

Grant grinned sheepishly even as he reached into the baby’s crib. With the utmost care, Grant cradled his baby girl, his little Hope, not sorry at all. He relished every moment he was able to hold his daughter, and he was not above inventing excuses to do so.

(He named her Hope; because to him, that was what she stood for. Hope that despite his past, he would become the man who deserved Jemma’s love. Hope that his mistakes would not taint her future. Hope that he would be able to atone for everything he had done.)

Grant then saw the reason for his wife’s uneven steps: their five-year old son Tommy had attached himself to her leg, already half-asleep.

(Tommy, on the other hand, had been named by Skye and Fitz at Jemma’s request.)

“Hi, dad.” Tommy mumbled, obviously fighting a losing battle against the Sandman.

Grant’s heart swelled further at the sight of his wife and his son. “Your sister woke you up?”

“Not really.” It was Jemma who replied, reaching down to put a hand on the boy’s head. “He wanted to wait for your arrival before he went to bed, so we were reading a book in his bedroom.”

Grant was once again reminded that things were different now. He had people and things worth fighting for, to go home to. As a SHIELD consultant, he can be more picky in his missions, usually discarding the more dangerous ones and those that would take him away from his family; but sometimes, there are things that were worth the risks: things like his last mission where he went undercover to investigate young girls in the SHIELD register who disappeared one by one.

Although he was not as reckless as he once was. He had people waiting for him, worried about him, loving him.

Everything was different now.

“Wanna trade?” Grant asked his wife when Hope continued fussing even as he was gently bouncing her. He looked down to his son. “What do you say, buddy?”

When he got close enough to Jemma, he leaned down and gave her a kiss, something he longed to do the moment he stepped out of the house a week ago.

He did not stop kissing her until a voice interrupted from beneath. “Ew!”

Jemma laughed and took Hope from her husband. It was all Grant could do not to hunch protectively against the baby, a knee-jerk reaction in what he perceived to be a threat that she would be taken away from him. By her own mother. It was unreasonable, he knew, but he felt jealous of all the hours he spent away from his daughter.

To make himself feel better, he crouched down to retrieve Tommy from Jemma’s leg. He tossed him up, making him squeal in delight, before settling him in his arms. Grant took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the sweet scent of little boy and baby powder.

Jemma rolled her eyes at the antics of father and son before moving to the corner of the room where a rocking chair was located.

“Do you think she’s hungry?” Grant asked, curious about why Hope was still crying.

Tommy, on the other hand, wholly unconcerned about why his little sister was still crying, opted to tuck his face at the crook of his father’s neck where he promptly fell asleep.

“No.” Jemma replied, rolling her eyes. “She wanted to sleep but her father had other ideas.”

“Oh.”

Despite her answer, she gracefully lowered herself to the rocking chair and bared her breast for the fretful little girl.

It was wonderful.

His family.

Sometimes, he woke up in the morning, afraid that everything was just his imagination.

After all, who would believe that Grant, the former SHIELD specialist who viewed emotions as weakness, who did not have a family of his own, now had a son and a daughter. His own flesh and blood. How he suddenly understood how it was for his heart to live outside his body; how it could exist in three separate scraps of humanity; how he would still have room for more love in his life if fate would will it to be so.

He loved Jemma, sure. He loved Jemma like he had loved no other before her, but that love was different. Jemma loved him back, but she did not need him as he needed her. She was strong; stronger than he was; strong enough to survive even if he ceased to exist. Her heart would break; she would cry an ocean of tears for him; but she would survive. And he did not want it any other way. (He thanked whatever deity it was that looked after fools and criminals. He was grateful for everyday that he had with Jemma, with her love that was wholly undeserved.)

Unlike his wife, his kids needed him. They depended on him and on their mother for everything. And if one day he failed to come back from a mission, he knew that their worlds would no longer be the same.

Just as a tiny fist reached up to touch his chin, as if to check whether he was still there, another reached into Grant’s chest and squeezed.

Deciding that it was way past his son’s bedtime, he carried Tommy into his room. He lingered as long as he can after tucking him into his bed. It was with great reluctance that he walked back into his daughter’s room to see if Jemma needed help in settling down their daughter.

When he returned to his daughter’s room, he saw that Hope was finally sleeping. Jemma put herself to rights, then gently, slowly moved so that she can finally return Hope to the crib.

He moved so that he could stand beside his wife as she made sure that the baby would not awaken. Jemma slipped an arm around his waist and laid a head against his arm, content to quietly watch their little girl sleep.

Dropping a kiss on her head simply because it was there, he whispered, “Hello, wife.”

Wife. A term he could never tire of, along with husband and father.

“Hello, husband.” She smiled warmly. “Welcome home.”

Grant laughed softly, because home sounded great, too.

He would be the first to admit that he did not deserve the life he was living now.

He was happy. He was blessed with a great family, and he did not just mean his wife and baby.

After all, he was a Simmons now.

He had shed off the Ward name and persona. It gave him nothing but heartache: adults who failed to protect him, a brother who abused him, and another who resented him.

On the other hand, the name Simmons meant everything. He saw first hand how Jemma was loved unconditionally by both parents. He knew how her brothers could tease her to tears, but also how they would tear apart another who made her cry.

And because names were important, he wanted his children to grow up a Simmons.

He would not hesitate to call his life perfect.

Perfect, that is, except for the big blight on his radar.

Two big blights, to be specific.

But for tonight, those imperfections were the last thing on his mind.


End file.
